


Wait For Me

by karuvapatta



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-29
Updated: 2012-02-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karuvapatta/pseuds/karuvapatta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin waits in the pouring rain for Arthur to pick him up. (For <a href="http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/30557.html?thread=29932637#t29932637">this prompt</a> at kink meme)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait For Me

**Author's Note:**

> You can also read it [here, at my LJ](http://karuvapatta.livejournal.com/1339.html#cutid1).

It’s Sunday, and the air is heavy with the promise of rain. Merlin sighs but gets up anyway, readying himself and making sure he packs a raincoat, just in case. He’s still half-asleep when he goes to the kitchen because he takes two cups out of the cupboard and stares at them, unseeing, as the water boils in the kettle.

He fixes himself coffee. The other cup stays there, forgotten.

The bus stop is empty when he gets there, jogging up to make sure he isn’t late. The backpack bounces up on down on his back; his feet hit the pavement and he itches to feel real dirt and grass underneath, instead of uneven cobblestone. He barely makes it.

The bus-driver nods at him absently; not many people have business at the outskirts of the city this early on a Sunday morning, but Merlin never fails to show up. The driver chats with him, sometimes, but doesn’t ask any questions.

Forty minutes later they arrive at the last stop – a tiny, desolated place. A road leads up to a village not far away, and a country lane goes all the way across fields and forests. Merlin breathes in; the air is so much cleaner here, far away from the city.  The heavy layer of grey clouds dampens his spirits a little, but he waves to the driver cheerily, and walks down the lane.

_The day he first came here, over seven years ago, was much brighter and more pleasant. It was early spring, a Sunday, and the wind carried in the scent of greenery and life._

_Balinor left the car near the bus stop, and smiled mischievously when Merlin asked him where they were going. It was so rare to see Balinor smile that Merlin shut up._

_They took the same road, walking in silence. That was one of the things Merlin started to learn about his father – that he liked silence and didn’t talk much. His mother was also like that, never wasting words. It was a wonder that Merlin grew up to be the chatterbox Arthur accused him of being._

The trek takes a little over two hours. It’s not very far but Merlin is in no hurry. He probably should be – the wind does nothing to chase the clouds away and it’s obvious that rain is inevitable. But he likes walking and the view is as nice as ever, even if everything appears to be grey and washed-out. He pauses to take out his camera and snap a few pictures.

He finds the stream and follows it, to the very place it springs out from between rocks. There he sits, in a little clearing surrounded by trees.

_Meeting his father for the first time was an awkward affair. Merlin was sixteen – an adult by his own standards. His mother had never spoken much about the man, except that he was a doctor._

_‘We haven’t known each other for long,’ she explained after he had drilled her long enough. ‘And we were separated before I found out I was pregnant.’_

_‘If you were both doctors how come you didn’t know about contraception?’ Merlin asked another time, in a fit of childish rage. His mother only smiled._

_He learned later about Doctors Without Borders. His mother had gone on one mission and came back pregnant, and then a small child kept her home. The story was so Hollywood-clichéd Merlin couldn’t help but laugh at her._

_He laughed even harder, although much more hysterically, when Balinor finally found them. He showed up one evening on their doorstep, sun-tanned and bearded like a wild man. Merlin slipped away quietly while his parents fought and shouted and laughed, catching up on sixteen years of stolen time. He crashed at Arthur’s place. Arthur didn’t ask any questions._

_That trip was Balinor’s idea. He tried to build a bond with his almost-adult son. Merlin didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was a lost cause, but he liked the man well enough. He sounded bitter and cynical when talking about his work but something kept drawing him back in, and Merlin admired those moments of child-like idealism. It reminded him of his mother, who had never lost that._

_They spent an afternoon wandering around the woods, mostly silent. It somehow brought them together in a way that forced conversations never could. And, week after that, they came back._

It starts to rain.

Merlin pulls on the rain-coat. It is bright-yellow and unspeakably ugly and he should really buy himself a new one. Or let Arthur buy it for him. And then he remembers that Arthur probably won’t be buying him anything anytime soon.

It’s almost noon. He stands up straight and stretches. Mud is clinging to his shoes and he lifts his feet with a sucking noise that makes him giggle like a girl. Then he spins around, catching raindrops on his face and outstretched tongue.

_They saw Balinor off at the airport – Merlin, his mother and Uncle Gaius. Balinor kissed Hunith goodbye for solid five minutes, while Merlin tried valiantly not to either blush or vomit._

_It was supposed to be the last trip Balinor did, and in a sense it was. Merlin liked to think he died doing something heroic, but it could have just as well been an accident._

It keeps raining, heavier and heavier by the second. In no time Merlin’s drenched to the bone. He tries to find some shelter beneath the trees but he swears the rain is almost horizontal.

He makes sure to get a clear view of the path. It’s barely wide enough for one car and even then it had better be a good one, because the ruts are deep and overflowing with mud.

_Arthur was very put upon when Merlin refused to let him come to the forest on a Sunday morning. It was a ritual by now, something that helped Merlin keep himself grounded. He could think there, alone in the woods. It was also a memorial for a man he barely knew but still missed. Having Arthur there wouldn’t be the same._

_And yet Arthur came to pick Merlin up. The entire gleaming body of his sleek, red car was splattered with mud, and Arthur was wearing a look of quiet despair when he got out.  Merlin nearly doubled over laughing, but he kissed Arthur stupid because that was a sacrifice that shouldn’t go unnoticed._

_That was a new ritual for them – Merlin would get up on the first Sunday of the month and go for a walk. At noon, Arthur would pick him up and then they would go for lunch._

It is noon. Arthur isn’t there.

***

_First time Merlin kissed Arthur, he was drunk and Morgana dared him do it, in the hopes he would embarrass himself completely. And Merlin was embarrassed, because the crush he had on his (straight) best friend was decidedly too awkward._

_But it was a challenge, and Arthur never backed away from a challenge. He kissed back with way too much tongue, to put on a good show. By the time they were done half of the room was wolf-whistling, and Morgana was taking pictures._

_(They kept the pictures)._

_A couple of days later Arthur asked Merlin out, properly. They went to watch a movie and for dinner, which was pretty much what they already did every week. But then Arthur invited Merlin over and kissed him in the kitchen of his big, fancy house, until they were both breathless and too aroused to try for finesse and romance as they brought each other off._

_It was a small miracle that Uther only walked in on them three months later, when they already decided to become a couple. Arthur untangled himself from Merlin’s limbs while Merlin was too mortified to move. Uther Pendragon scared him more than anything else, and the looks he was giving him then, and the words he said, burned in Merlin’s mind every time he looked at him._

_Arthur was a brave man. Brave enough to take on boys twice his size when he was still small and scrawny to defend helpless kids (i.e. Merlin). Then he grew up and hours he spent doing every kind of competitive sport known to man paid off, and it was him the bullies were afraid of. But when it came to trying to please his father Arthur was still a six-year-old, insecure and terrified._

_Merlin saw evidence of that, every time he was forced to attend dinner at the Pendragon estate. Uther made cutting remarks about everything – Merlin’s family, Merlin’s ears, Merlin’s chosen profession. Arthur sat there and said nothing, while Merlin quietly hated them both._

It’s a quarter past noon.

Merlin shivers. He feels cold all over. The wet clothing clings to him uncomfortably; he’s tired and hungry and would kill for hot tea and a warm blanket. The rain keeps falling and the sky is grey all over, with no patch of bright blue to give him hope of a better weather.

He hears the low rumble of thunder, and then a lightning bolt zigzags across the sky.

Merlin wraps the raincoat tightly around himself, but it’s not helping.

_‘I don’t want to go,’ Merlin told Arthur bluntly._

_‘It’s just a dinner,’ Arthur said._

_‘Your father plans to hook you up with Olaf’s daughter.’_

_‘Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. My father knows we’re together.’_

_Merlin snorted. He could tell, by the way his eyes narrowed, that Arthur was furious._

_‘Even if he does, do you want to give him credibility by not showing up?’ Arthur asked coldly._

_‘I just don’t much fancy hearing how I turned you homosexual,’ Merlin snapped back._

_Arthur blanched._

_‘My father never said that,’ he said._

_‘He did. For God’s sake, Arthur, you were there!’_

_‘Look, just-‘ Arthur rubbed his temples. ‘Just give him time. He’ll get over it.’_

_‘Like he got over Morgana?’ Merlin said. He knew mentioning her was a mistake, but he was too far gone to care. ‘Face it, Arthur. Your father is a bigoted, self-absorbed tyrant and he won’t let you live out your own bloody life until you become just like him!’_

_Merlin regretted the words as soon as they escaped his lips. The silence that followed was the heaviest and most uncomfortable he had ever experienced._

_‘Is this really what you think?’ Arthur asked eventually. His voice was ice-cold._

_‘I want you to be happy,’ Merlin said gently. ‘Your father is making you miserable, and you’re letting him.’_

_Arthur got up. He was already wearing an immaculate suit that he always chose for formal occasions, such as family dinner. When he pulled on a coat Merlin was suddenly very, very afraid._

_‘Arthur-‘ he began in a soft voice._

_‘He’s my father,’ Arthur said. ‘I’m sorry if we don’t live up to your high standards, Merlin.’_

_‘Where are you going?’_

_‘Home. Don’t wait for me.’_

_He collected his possessions – wallet, Blackberry, car keys – and shut the door behind him._

_That was three weeks ago. Merlin hasn’t seen him since._

At half past twelve, a thunder sounds again.

Merlin has almost given up. He briefly entertains the thought of just staying here, curling up beneath a tree and letting the steady beat of rain lull him to sleep.

When he hears a car making its way through the mud he’s sure his mind is playing tricks on him. He doesn’t let himself turn, even after the engine sounds closer and then dies. A door is opened and then shut; somebody curses quietly.

‘Are you training to catch hypothermia and die?’ Arthur asks, in a posh and snotty voice.

‘I don’t think you can actually catch hypothermia,’ Merlin says without looking up. He feels a smile stretch his lips.

‘Well, get in,’ Arthur snaps.

Merlin stands up. Arthur is standing next to his car, trying to shield his head from the rain. He’s wearing jeans that cling to his body and a white polo-shirt that turns interestingly transparent when wet. It figures that in the rain Merlin looks like a stray dog while Arthur looks like a model.

‘I’ll get mud all over the upholstery,’ Merlin says. Arthur is looking him straight in the eyes, and he finds he can’t quite look away.

‘You can clean it later,’ Arthur says generously.

Merlin laughs and covers the distance between them to shove at his broad chest. But what started out as a punch turns into an awkward half-hug and his eyes sting a little. He buries his face in Arthur’s neck, feeling how it radiates warmth and smelling his skin and hair for the first time in three weeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says quietly and hopes Arthur can hear him. ‘For what I said that day.’

‘It’s okay. You were right, after all.’

Arthur’s arms wrap around him possessively.

‘No, I really wasn’t,’ Merlin smiles. ‘How was Vivian?’

‘Blonde, pretty. Arrogant. Obnoxious.’

Arthur runs his fingers through Merlin’s wet hair.

‘You have a lot in common, then,’ Merlin teases.

‘We do,’ Arthur chuckles. ‘I don’t know how you put up with me.’

‘You learn to live with it,’ Merlin says. He hesitates before speaking again. ‘It’s worth it, though. Maybe you should give it a try.’

‘God, no,’ Arthur laughs, and Merlin can feel his chest tremble with it. ‘Besides, I’ve already told my father and everybody else that I’m not single.’

‘Oh.’

‘Now get in the damn car,’ Arthur says. He doesn’t loosen his hold – if anything he pulls Merlin even closer, until they are both pressed together so tight Merlin can barely breathe. ‘And don’t ever let me leave again.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Merlin says. ‘I won’t.’

It doesn’t stop raining. But Merlin finds he doesn’t mind.

 


End file.
